41. Kurt

First thing the next morning, I'm sitting with Johnny in Christian's office as he tells her about the past few days. Thankfully, she agreed to see us before her scheduled sessions for the day, and court isn't starting up again until tomorrow.

Christian looks concerned as Johnny speaks, but she listens quietly.

"I just can't get these damn thoughts out of my head," Johnny is saying. "When it hurts so much, I just wanna … make it stop. Turn off the light switch and let everything go black. It's overwhelming. I'd thought those feelings had gone, because of the meds or the therapy or … I don't know. I just thought I was done with them. But I'm not, and I'm … I'm fucking pissed that my brain still does that." He sniffs. "I feel like a little kid saying this, but it ain't fair. I don't want those thoughts. I wanna feel better."

She nods. "It's hard when we think we have to police all of our thoughts. But that's just not possible."

Johnny looks at her, utter devastation on his face. "It's not? You mean I have to be like this for the rest of my life?"

"No, I don't mean that. The thoughts should lessen. We should evaluate your medication and also see if you'd benefit from other therapies like meditation or journaling."

"At this stage, I'll try anything," Johnny says. "Anything to stop these thoughts, because when they come, they come. And I don't wanna hurt Kurt. Or myself."

Christian nods. "To be fair, you were triggered by reliving an extremely traumatic event in a very public manner. Give yourself some credit for living through both—the event itself, and then the vivid memories viewing the video brought back."

"You really have gone through more than you should be expected to," I say, reaching out to hold his hand. His skin is cooler than usual, but his grip is as tight as ever. He's developed new calluses from working at the ranch, and I love the strength they represent.

"Pay attention to what you can control and what you can't," Christian says. "You can't control your past, and to a great extent, you can't control your thoughts. But you can become aware of them, and you can notice when you're having intrusive ones."

"Which is all the fuckin' time some days," Johnny says. "Excuse my French."

"You're a good person, Johnny. Just because you have some uncomfortable thoughts every once in a while—or even often—doesn't change that," she says.

"Yeah, sure."

Christian holds up a hand. "I want to make a suggestion. I think you would benefit if you could stop fighting the fact that you're a kind, strong person with good qualities."

"I don't do that. I mean … Shit. Do I?" Johnny looks so genuinely bewildered, I want to hug him.

"How often do you give yourself a compliment?"

He thinks about it for a moment and then laughs. "I'm gonna have to say never." His face falls. "I've treated myself like shit. Why did I do that?"

"That's an interesting question, and one we can explore during future sessions if you like. But for today, I think it's most important that you realize you've done it, and now it's time to change the script. There's no point in blaming yourself for what's already happened. Part of treating yourself well is forgiving yourself for treating yourself badly in the past."

"I suppose. But how many times do I need to do that? I keep having these fucking negative thoughts. I can't seem to keep them out of my head. It's frustrating as hell."

"It is frustrating," she agrees. I like how she validates how he's feeling. Then she tilts her head. "Have either of you two ever heard of the concept of l'appel du vide?"

"No," I say, and Johnny shakes his head.

"Maybe it will give you some comfort. It's a French phrase that means ‘the call of the void.' It's when you think you could just … veer into oncoming traffic. Or jump off a cliff. It's the momentary allure of playing with danger. Wondering what would happen."

I raise an eyebrow. "That's a thing?"

"It's a thing. Knowing that it's a thing, that other people experience it, really helped me," she says. "We all have intrusive thoughts from time to time. But you don't have to believe everything in your head or act on it. Talking about those intrusive thoughts, shining a light on them, making sure that people know it's okay to talk about them and about their mental health—this is important. You did the right thing when you told Kurt what was going on, what your brain was saying to you."

Johnny and Christian talk a while more, and I can tell he's more relaxed. His shoulders aren't hunched, and the panicky look is gone from his eyes.

When we leave, he grabs me in the parking lot and kisses me hard. "I love you," he rumbles. "Thank you for standing by me."

"Stop thanking me. It's what I mean when I say I love you, too: I'm gonna stand by you."

"Maybe we should make up some new vows," he says. "Ones that mean more to us than whatever we said in Vegas. Since, you know, we can't remember those."

I nod. "Deal."

The trial continues for three more days, and it's hard to tell whether it's going well or not. I think it is, and I think Pinkerton looks like a shit, but that doesn't mean that the jury is going to agree or award Johnny any money. The parade of porn star witnesses has drawn some media attention, but the judge has barred television cameras, so it's only the mess of reporters outside that's a disturbance.

Every night, Johnny's clung to me in sleep, but he's been peaceful. Like he's passed over one watershed and into a new one, where the view is different.

Meanwhile, I'm still plotting with Rowan. Letting him know the status of the proceedings.

On the last day of testimony, while the jury is still out in the hallway on a break, Danny says, "Your Honor, we have one more witness. A rebuttal witness."

"There are no other witnesses on the list," opposing counsel snaps, holding up a sheet of paper and shaking it.

"True," Danny acknowledges. "But we're allowed to bring in a witness to impeach the defendant's direct testimony."

"Well, I object," opposing counsel says.

"On what basis?" the judge asks.

"Unfair surprise."

Danny shakes his head. "The witness was disclosed during discovery, and opposing counsel had plenty of opportunity to take her deposition. If they chose not to, that's not my fault."

"Offer of proof?" the judge says.

"Me-too evidence. The defendant testified that he'd never given anyone Rohypnol, but we have a witness to impeach his credibility."

"Who is the witness?" the judge asks.

"Sandra Nguy?n."

"Objection overruled." The judge nods. "You may proceed."

Johnny's eyebrows knit together. I lean over and whisper in his ear, "Do you know who that is?"

He mutters, "No, I do not."

But then the courtroom doors open, and his whole demeanor changes. A small, pretty Vietnamese woman with long, dark hair walks in, and he takes in a sharp breath. "Tawni?"

"Who's that?" I ask.

"She's an actress," he whispers. "And she's my friend."

Sandra—or Tawni—looks nervous, her hands shaking and her lips trembling, but she's got a determined set to her shoulders. She's wearing a pastel blue suit and sky-high heels, but she looks more adorable than femme fatale. She gives Johnny a quick wave but sticks her chin up in the air as she passes Gary to take the witness stand.

The judge turns to the bailiff. "Let the jury in."

Once the jury is seated and the judge indicates to Danny that he can go ahead, Tawni is sworn in. After she gives her name, he asks her, "Do you know Gary Pinkerton?"

"Yes," she says. Although she still looks scared, her voice is clear.

"How do you know him?"

"He's produced at least a dozen of my films."

The jury is now looking interested.

"Those films are pornography, correct?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever experienced any scenes where Gary Pinkerton took actions that went beyond what was agreed to in your contract?"

Tawni nods. "Yes."

Danny's voice is low and careful. "Can you describe what happened?"

Taking a deep breath and straightening her back, Tawni tells the court a story of how, after she had finished a scene, Gary called her to his office and had sex with her. She didn't want to, but she didn't say no.

Something similar happened after a later scene, and she testifies that, that time, she told him no, and he got angry, but he let her leave.

Then, the next time he called her to his office, he'd given her some Gatorade. She testifies, "I passed out and woke up later with semen on my legs, and it wasn't from the scene."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he filmed it," she says. "In his office. He filmed himself having sex with me." A shudder goes through the courtroom. "He showed me it later on his phone. He was proud of it."

"You say you passed out. Do you believe he had given you any drugs?"

"Yes, I do."

"And on what basis do you have that belief?"

"I went to the hospital for a test, and they found Rohypnol. That's certainly not something I would have taken knowingly, and I felt fine when I entered his office. Here's the screening." She pulls out a piece of paper. The bailiff takes it from her, and the document gets marked as an exhibit by the clerk.

"No further questions," Danny says.

Gary's lawyer attempts to cross-examine Tawni about how much sex she's had during her career, but her testimony is clear: "I know what I consent to and what I don't. I did not consent to have sex with Gary, and he drugged me so I couldn't say no."

After court is done for the day, Tawni's waiting in the hallway. Johnny wraps her in a hug, kissing the top of her head. "I didn't know," he says huskily. "I didn't know Gary pulled that shit with you, too. I'm so sorry it happened to you. And I'm so darn grateful you came and supported me."

"When Weston Ramirez interviewed me, they said you had no evidence that he roofied anyone, and I knew I had to speak up," she says. "Guess the other side underestimated me. But Gary's a turd. I know people think just because we agree to have sex on camera, it means they can do anything to us. But it doesn't."

"No, it doesn't."

"Thank you," I say. "You were magnificent. It was very brave of you."

She shrugs and turns to Johnny. "You'd do it for me, wouldn't you, Velvet?"

"Yes. That I would. Wanna go to dinner with us tonight?" Johnny asks. "And maybe a drink?"

Tawni grins. "I'd love to."

The next day, Danny gives a devastating closing argument, reminding the jury that Johnny was horribly assaulted, causing physical and emotional trauma, in addition to which he was deprived of his livelihood due to Pinkerton's derogatory comments about him—and for this, he should be compensated. Danny also asks for punitive damages for Pinkerton's extreme and outrageous behavior. He tells the jury to punish Pinkerton and send a message that sexual assault is always unacceptable. Johnny then has to sit through opposing counsel telling the jury that a porn star is paid for having sex, and that's exactly what Johnny did.

The judge sends the jury out to deliberate.

And then we wait.

But unlike last weekend, Johnny's calm. When we get home, I ask him how he's doing, and he says, "Got my story out. That's what I wanted. The rest ain't up to me."